“A resident from Chicago. He and three nurses arrived on the train yesterday,” she explained. “Or was it the day before? I’d have to check the notes.” All the while she talked, she probed his swollen neck and picked up a cloth to dip in the pan of water they kept by his side to help sponge him cooler. “Sure wish this heat would break. We need a good thunderstorm to clear it all away.” Please, Lord, keep him from remembering his wife died.
She leaned closer as he tried to talk, but only guttural noises could be heard. “Look at me. The diphtheria is affecting your vocal cords now too, so don’t even try to talk. If you need something, tap my hand.” She watched him shake his head, barely. “I’m going to get you some syrup and water before we move you, so I’ll be right back.”
She met Dr. Johnson in the hall. “Would you please help me move Thorliff into the steam room? We’ll use the wheelchair.” She pointed down the hall and stopped in the supply room to pour some cough syrup into a cup, then fetched a cup of water, answering a question from one of the new student nurses. Both of their resident student nurses were sleeping, thankfully.
Back in Thorliff’s room, she held the cup to his mouth and watched to see if he was swallowing. His Adam’s apple was barely visible within all the swelling, but it moved. Was it time to intubate him? She turned to Dr. Johnson beside her. “Have you looked in his throat?”
“Earlier.”
“Please check again and tell me if you see any differences.” She’d looked several hours earlier, and the membrane had spread overnight, but not quite to the danger zone yet. She watched his face and hands. Mrs. Korsheski in Chicago had said this young man was the best they had of the current three in residency.
“The same, as near as I can tell.”
“Good. That’s what I thought too.” She wiped Thorliff’s face with the cool cloth again. “When he returns from the steam room, pack him with cool cloths and ice around his neck.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Help us if you can, Thorliff. We’re moving you into the steam room.”
He blinked his eyes.
Between the three of them, they got him transferred to the chair, into the steam room, and parked near the stove.
“I know it is unbearably hot in here, but breathe as deeply as you can and cough as much as you can.”
“Might ice wrapped in a cloth and applied to his head and the back of his neck make him more comfortable in here?”
“Good idea. I’ll go make an ice pack. You stay with him.”
Outside the door, she leaned against the wall and inhaled as deeply as she could of what seemed like cold air compared to the air inside that room. She waved to Vera. “Please change Thorliff’s bed and replenish the supplies in there. How long since you’ve slept?”
“Too long it seems, but I’m due soon.” She wiped her forehead with the edge of her apron. “Maybe we should all be wearing ice packs.”
“If you can figure a way, let’s do it.” She moved on down the ward, talking with the nurses, making suggestions, trying to keep her thoughts away from Thorliff—and Elizabeth. Questions regarding what if this or that, like who will take the children if Thorliff dies too and what else could she do to prevent the disease from getting worse and what was going on in the outside world? Now, that one, that one she could dwell on.
When John Solberg and Father Devlin returned, she invited them into her office and ordered that coffee be brought in. “Did you have any dinner?”
They looked at each other and then her and shook their heads. “Then let’s go to the dining room. It’s cooler in there anyway. This box has no windows, even though there is an air vent into the roof.” She remembered tripping over it when they were fighting to save the hospital from setting on fire when the grain elevator exploded. They sat down at one of the small tables in front of a window and put in an order when Mrs. Geddick came to see them, coffeepot in hand.
“You not eat?” She looked at the two men aghast. “I fix that right now.”
“Don’t bother to tell her you are not hungry. She’ll probably bring you more food that way.” She looked across the table at the two men. They had obviously cleaned up, but no amount of scrubbing would remove the sorrow from their faces. Astrid shut her eyes and shook her head. “Did anyone else show up?”
“A few, but they stayed far away. I think everyone in this town is so terrified of the disease, they are willing to follow the instructions.” Reverend Solberg rubbed his forehead.
“Headache?”
“Not really. Even my skin feels heavy, full of sorrow. I didn’t count the number of graves in the circus section of the cemetery. I am just praying no more have to be dug for our people. Thanks to your quick thinking, Astrid . . .”
“Not mine, Elizabeth’s. She blamed herself for not sending that train on its way.”
“They did not ask,” Devlin reminded her. “They just showed up on yer doorstep with litters of sick people. I cannot picture either of ye doing any differently. If anyone be blamed, ’tis Stetler.”
“Ja, and he was desperate too. But laying or trying to lay blame does no good at all. That train should be on its way soon. Thank you, Mrs. Geddick.” John looked at the full plate before him. “Looks good as always.”
“I will bring cake soon.” She wiped her hands on her apron, shaking her head. “Such a sad day.”
Astrid watched her return to the kitchen. She huffed and shook her head. “I didn’t notify the hospital in Chicago. I better go do that. Dr. Johnson talked with them earlier. Excuse me, please.” She paused. “And thank you for taking care of . . . of . . .” She turned and left before she started crying again.
Later that night after Dr. Johnson had just come on to relieve her, Astrid answered the demanding telephone. “Dr. Astrid, I have an emergency call for you.”
“Thanks, Lucy, put it through. Dr. Bjorklund speaking.”
“Doctor, my wife is going to have her baby tonight, she says. She’s pacing something awful. Can you come?”
“Is she one of our patients?”
“Ja. She’s been seeing you. Mabel Stavenger.”
“Yes, of course.” Astrid’s mind whirled. “I cannot leave the hospital right now, but I will send a midwife with years of experience to help her. You probably know Ingeborg Bjorklund.”
“Of course.” He told her how to get there. “Tell her to please hurry.”
“I will. In the meantime keep walking with Mabel. That’s the best thing you can do to help. Good night.” She hung up and clicked the earpiece again. “Please connect me to Ingeborg’s.” She waited, her foot tapping until her mor’s sleepy voice answered.
“Mor, how quickly can you get out on a birthing call?”
“Really?”
“Ja. Mr. Stavenger just called. It has to be the son. His folks are too old to be having children.”
“I brought that young man into the world. I know where the place is. I’m going to take Clara with me, let her see how babies are born. Freda will hitch up the buggy. ’Bye.”
Astrid stared at the telephone as she hung up. Leave it to her mor. She knew everyone within a twenty-mile radius.
“If only Manny were here to hitch up the buggy.” Ingeborg went to the foot of the stairs. “Freda! Freda!”
“Ja.”
“I need to go help a baby into this world. Could you hitch up the buggy?”
“Where’s the horse?”
“In the near pasture. Rattle a can of oats, and they’ll all come.”
Within a minute, Freda, wearing a robe and shoes, clumped down the stairs. “You want me to go with you?”
“I’m going to take Clara. Soon as I get my clothes on and the bag, I’ll come help you.”
“I’ll go get the horse.” Emmy appeared right behind Freda and darted out the door.
Ingeborg woke Clara and both of them dressed swiftly. Ingeborg lit a lantern and they headed for the barn. Emmy had the horse tied to the hitching rail, and Freda was throwing the harnes
s over its back. They finished adjusting the harness, backed the horse into the shafts, and while Clara held the lantern in the shed where the buggy was kept, they hitched in the lines. Ingeborg helped Clara up into the buggy, then got in herself and, making sure her medical bag was safe, flipped the reins, hupped the horse, and they were on their way.
“Be careful!” Freda called to them.
She set the horse to a trot down the lane and headed west. “You said you’ve never seen a baby born, right?”
Clara tapped her arm with their code. Once for yes, two for no.
“Good thing we have a moon. I’ve gone on birthing calls when it was so dark the horse could hardly see, and they can see in the dark. I used to do this all the time, you know. In fact, I brought this baby’s pa into the world.” Thank you, Lord. You have given me a gift tonight.
Soon they saw a lantern hanging on a post by a lane going north. They turned in and young Stavenger leaped down the steps and reached up to help Ingeborg down. “Thank you for coming. Felt like you would never get here.”
“I’m sure it did.” Ingeborg reached back in for her bag. “You needn’t show me the way. Help Clara down and then you can tie my horse.” She knew she needed to give him quiet instructions for something definite to do to help him calm down. Inside she was chuckling. “When did the contractions start?” She didn’t wait for an answer but climbed the three stairs to the porch and stepped into the kitchen.
“In here,” called a wavery female voice.
Ingeborg felt Clara right behind her. “Could you please make sure there is water on the stove to heat. You might have to start the fire. We need to sterilize our instruments, so start a small kettle too.”
Clara nodded, and Ingeborg went on into the bedroom. “Hello, Mabel,” she said to the young woman who was pacing back and forth. “How are you progressing? And when you saw Dr. Bjorklund, she told you what to expect, right?”
“I remember when my youngest . . .” She panted and stopped pacing to catch her breath. “Dr. Elizabeth told me all what to do, but Walter is a bit worried.”
A bit was an understatement. They should probably have instructions for expectant fathers, besides the ones for the mothers. But then they did not usually come along for the pre-birth appointments.
“How about you lie back down on the bed and let’s see how far you are dilated.”
Mabel sat down on the edge of the bed. “I lost one baby a year or so ago, but this time all has been well.” She hauled herself onto the bed with her arms, then froze and panted again. “I think they are getting closer together.”
Ingeborg checked and smiled at the young almost-mother. “You are right, you’re getting close. Let’s get you up and walking again. The water hasn’t broken?”
“No, ma’am. Is that Walt out in the kitchen?”
“No, I brought a helper, Clara, who lives with me. She is due in August, we think.” Once she had Mabel on her feet again, they walked and chatted. Clara appeared in the doorway, and Ingeborg pointed to her black bag. “The birthing things are wrapped in a cloth all together and they must be boiled.” Clara nodded, fetched the bundle, and looked at Ingeborg, who nodded. “That is what we need. Boil the cloth too and see if there is a cookie pan or a tray or even a large plate to bring them when we need them.”
“Good thing I like to walk.” Mabel grabbed Ingeborg’s arm. “Uff da. It’s getting harder.”
“While you walk, I’m going to get the bed ready. I see you have sheets and towels ready. You followed the doctor’s instructions well.”
“The baby things are in that cradle my pa made for us.”
Clara was sitting in the room with them when the water broke and leaked down on the floor. She looked wide-eyed at Ingeborg.
“Just part of birthing. The baby grows in a sack of water. The sack is called the placenta. When the water breaks, you know the sack has broken, and it has to break for the baby to leave. It won’t be long now. Mabel, you keep walking while I clean this up.”
Clara shook her head and grabbed a cloth to kneel on the floor with an oof and a grunt.
“I know just what you feel like,” Mabel said. “Scrubbing floors got a bit difficult there to the end.” After a couple of slowing passages crossing the room, Mabel doubled over with a groan.
“Let’s get you in bed and ready. This could go fast. I’m going to call Walt in now so he can help.”
Within minutes she had Walt with his back to the headboard on the bed and legs spread with a sheet over them, his wife cradled against him. His face was white in the lamplight.
“Now, you hang on to him, and when I say push, Walt, she is going to push against you, so be prepared and hang on for dear life.” Ingeborg checked on her patient again. “Easy now, no hurry. Breathe. Clara, you come over here now. See that tiny patch of wet hair? It’s the baby’s head. This is called crowning.” She looked over the tented legs at Mabel. “On the next contraction, you push. Walt, be ready.”
Mabel groaned, her face all scrunched.
“Breathe.” Ingeborg spoke softly but the order was there. “Good, good, Mabel. Soon. Be ready for one more and give it all you’ve got.” Ingeborg watched for the start. “Now, push! Keep pushing. We have a head. Clara, see? We put our hands under the baby’s head, like this. The neck is so weak, it will flop. Here, you do it. Now, Mabel, rest and breathe and push!”
The baby slipped out and right into Clara’s waiting hands.
Wide-eyed, Clara grinned and stared at Ingeborg.
“Ja, you helped. Mabel, Walt, you have a baby boy.” Ingeborg took the baby and, as the cord went flaccid, laid him belly down on his mother’s chest. “You two get acquainted while I show Clara what to do. Now soon as I cut the cord, I am going to massage her belly to slow the blood loss. You can take this baby over to that basin and wash him all clean. Make sure you keep his face out of the water. The cloth is right by the basin.” Ingeborg tied off and cut the cord, then handed the baby to Clara, who stared down at the infant, tears trickling down her face.
“Ja, I know. There is nothing more astounding than bringing a baby into this world.” Ingeborg sniffed and, mopping her own tears, looked to Mabel, who touched her baby’s head with one finger.
She looked up to Ingeborg. “Thank you.” She smiled up at Walt. “You were a big help.” She flinched, then continued, “How are your hands?”
“Not bleeding but almost.” He watched Clara come over with the baby all wrapped up in a blanket. “Now you be careful.”
Clara grinned at him and looked down at the little red-faced boy in her arms. She nodded.
Back out in the buggy, Ingeborg looked toward the sun just over the horizon. “That baby came right quick. Ah, how I love seeing new life like this, bringing a baby into the world. There’s nothing finer. Especially today. God called Elizabeth home, but He sent another life. Thanks be to God.” She patted Clara’s arm. “Hear that rooster? I love the songs of morning. Let’s get on home. Freda will have breakfast ready. Now you know what is going to happen to you soon. And we will rejoice.” She returned Clara’s smile. Dear Lord, let it be so.
CHAPTER 27
I didn’t think the summer was going to be like this.” Melissa sat staring out the window, her chin cupped in her hands.
“I’m glad you’re only suffering from boredom. Many are suffering from diphtheria.” Anji realized that her edges were getting a little frazzled too. She should not have reacted so sharply. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so testy. This summer is not my cup of tea either.”
She felt rejected. She certainly was disappointed. And in a way, she was disgusted with herself. She thought she was fairly good at reading people’s intentions. How could she so horribly, woefully, have misread Thomas Devlin’s? She really did think he cared about her. Hardly! He didn’t just politely rebuff her. He ran away! Shoved his wheelbarrow away down the street at a jog! She couldn’t get over it. It ate at her.
She got up from her rocker and started for the ki
tchen. Perhaps if she got busy with something, she could shake this lethargy and get her mind off him. Her telephone jangled her rings, so she continued over to the wall and picked it up.
Melissa instantly appeared at her elbow. “Is it Linnea?” she asked in a hoarse whisper loud enough to be heard in Grafton.
“No, it’s Ingeborg.” She shooed the girl off. “It’s so good to hear your voice, Ingeborg. It’s so good to hear any adult voice.”
Ingeborg laughed sadly. “I suspect the quarantine will end soon. There have been no new cases on the train, and the antitoxin is surely taking effect by now. Anji, Thorliff is very ill and getting worse. He insists the paper must get out on time, but he simply cannot. You know.”
“Oh. My. Do I know. No matter how sick they are . . . yes.”
“He trusts Devlin. And he trusts you. Always has. So I am asking you and Thomas to go down to the office and get the paper out.”
“Mr. Devlin . . . me . . . uh, I don’t think we could work together very well, Ingeborg. I’m flattered you thought of me, but—”
“You worked together very well teaching in the school, and you’ve helped with the paper before. John mentioned that frequently. In fact, he thought he saw the beginning of a romance sparking.”
“I really don’t think . . .” Oh dear! How could she explain this? God, give me the words!
“I’m not asking for myself, Anji. It’s for Thorliff. It would ease his mind so much. Oh, and Dr. Astrid agrees that Mr. Devlin is not contagious. It’s safe.”
For Thorliff. How could she say no to that? “But I’ve never done anything like that. I can write, but I can’t typeset or—”
“Mr. Devlin helps Thorliff often, and he can do that sort of thing. But it will take at least two, he says. He cannot get all the jobs done in time by himself.”
“I cannot leave my children alone.”
“Freda will stay with them while you do this.”
“I guess I can try.” And when he kicks me out, I’ll just come home. “I have to go, Ingeborg. Someone is knocking at the door.” They said good-bye and she hurried to the door.
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